Treasured Lies (35 page)

Mental juggling slotted the puzzle pieces into place. The hired boat was never returned. The boat hire place reported it stolen. And his name would have thrown up a red flag after Archer and Rosalina reported what happened at Anafi Island. He remembered all the forms he'd filled out at that boat hire place and he punched his fist into his own palm at his foolishness. The authorities would now have his full name and address.

He stood up and rubbed his beard stubble as he paced. If they knew where he lived, it's possible they would've searched his bedroom in the church. He'd left so quickly that he didn't have time to hide anything. Not that he would have anyway, because at that point in time, he had every intention of returning. He drove his fingers through his hair as he thought over what was in his bedroom. His tapes. His scroll. His supply of poisonous mushroom powder. They were the three things that meant everything to him. He was certain the scroll was safe. The brick in the wall it was hidden behind was identical to every other. So unless someone knew of the secret compartment hidden behind the bricks, they'd have no reason to start searching. The other two items though would provide more than enough evidence to convict him of murdering at least a dozen or so people.

It would be inconsequential, because right now, he was a dead man walking. As far as Archer, Rosalina and the police were concerned, he'd drowned in the ocean with a spear in his belly. His eyes drifted to Ophelia. She was staring up at him, her lips slightly ajar as if poised to say something, but couldn't get the words out. As he looked at her now, her small almond-shaped eyes that usually disappeared behind her chubby cheeks with a smile, bulged with mortal fear instead.

Ophelia was the only kink in his grand plans … now that she knew who he was.

Chapter 35

Rosalina gasped for air, every breath scorched her throat. Black smoke stung her eyes and a loud buzz tortured her ears. The blistering heat was terrifying. She tried to back away, but couldn't.

‘Archer!' She cried out for him. Her despair was a living, breathing thing, engulfing her with uselessness. He had been so high up when he fell, surely just hitting the water would have hurt him, injured him, or worse. She shuddered to think of the latter. Bracing against the pain in her legs she pushed to sit up. But couldn't. She wiped her eyes, trying to clear the grit.

‘Help.' Her throat hurt. She swallowed, tasting ash and fumes. ‘Help.'

When the helicopter had begun to spin out of control she'd stared in horror as Archer was flung around. She watched him fall. She heard him scream. That was the last she saw of him.

Through smoke and stinging eyes she saw flames high above her on the helipad deck. She now realised she was on the dive platform two storeys below. No wonder her hip was in agony. She'd hurled herself off of the top deck, expecting to hit the water. But she'd hit the deck instead. Landed right on her hipbone. Through her blurry vision she saw why she couldn't move, the tail end of the helicopter was across her legs. There was enough of a gap for her to wriggle beneath the twisted metal, but not enough to pull her legs out. She was trapped.

She turned her head and searched the black water less than a metre from her head.

‘Archer!' With a fierce effort she pushed at the metal pinning her legs. But the twisted contraption refused to move. The metal must have hit her legs, the pain radiating from her shins was as excruciating as the pain in her hip.

‘Help!' Tears streamed down her cheeks, as much from her stinging eyes as for Archer. He's a good swimmer. He's going to be okay. She repeated the mantra over and over as she wriggled beneath the metal.

Relief flooded through her veins when she heard voices. People were shouting and lights were coming on everywhere.

‘I'm here. Help me.' She beat her fists on the metal as she scoured the black water searching for the man she loved. ‘Archer!' Her throat was a burning inferno. ‘Help Me!'

‘Oh my God, are you okay?' It was an elderly man, in blue polka dotted pyjamas. He climbed down the steps and knelt at her side. She smelt talcum powder and mothballs.

‘My fiancé. He fell into the water. Find him, please.'

‘But what about you, you're—'

‘I'm fine. Please, he fell from the helicopter. Go. Go get help. Now. Please,' she begged over her frantic tears.

‘Okay. Okay. I'll get help.' With agonising slowness he pushed up off his knees, and she alternated her gaze from watching him slowly climb the stairs to the still, black water beyond her.

Several people she didn't recognise came running down the stairs. ‘Did you find Archer?'

‘Who?' said a man with a thick head of silver hair and a matching moustache.

Rosalina slammed her fist onto the wooden decking. ‘My fiancé. He fell from the helicopter. He landed in the water. Please find him. Before he drowns.'

The man with the moustache jumped up and ran back up the stairs. Rosalina began to cry, deep wracking sobs cut through her body. Rivers of tears trickled down her cheeks as her heart shredded into hundreds of little pieces. She fell back, gasping for breath. She had no comprehension of what was going on. The people around her were talking to her but she was in a cloud. She knew they were touching her arms and legs, but her body was anesthetised. Everything was numb. Her mind, her body, her heart.

She heard an engine and when she looked over her shoulder she saw a small rubber boat cruising across the water. The people in the boat were searching the blackness with a powerful torch. Rosalina didn't take her eyes off that circle of light, desperate to see Archer and yet at the same time fearful of what she might find. She had no comprehension of time and no idea how long ago he'd hit the water. Was it seconds? Minutes? Hours?

Her world faded into blurry misery as she sobbed until she struggled to breathe.

Suddenly Jimmy was there, and Alessandro. ‘Rosa. Rosa. My God, are you okay?'

‘Jesus. Jimmy, I can't find Archer. He fell off the stupid helicopter and into the water.' A thought of horrific proportions hit her. If Jimmy was here, then at least an hour had passed since the helicopter crashed.

As she wept in Jimmy's arms, her heart crumbled to dust and drifted away with the mild ocean breeze.

Chapter 36

Nox saw Ophelia's behaviour towards him change from pleasant indifference to fear and loathing in the space of seconds. It was not pretty to watch. His beautiful, cherubic, welcoming Ophelia became wide darting-eyed, and she gripped the chair as if fearful he was about to attack her.

He held his palms up in a calming gesture and wished he could tell her he would never hurt her. But how could he? He took a step towards her and in a move that completely stunned him she leapt out of her chair and smashed the remote control over his head. Nox stepped back, blinded and disorientated for a second. He blinked the fuzziness from his brain and shook his head. When he reached up to feel where she had clobbered him, he couldn't believe he was bleeding.

He turned to her, but she was gone. As were the children. But the wooden floorboards in the kitchen quickly gave away their escape route. Nox strode to the kitchen. He was greeted with a red-faced Ophelia. The boys were gone, no doubt they'd shot out the open door to her right. Ophelia was holding the knife she'd used only an hour or so earlier to cut the chicken and vegetables, and Nox noticed a slice of carrot still clinging to the blade.

Her lips trembled as much as the fingers she had wrapped around the handle of the knife. Nox again tried to calm her by offering his open hands. She spoke to him and her usual singsong voice was now a feverish, high-pitched hiss. He stepped towards her and she swung the knife, slicing the air before his chest with a quick slash. He was certain she had no intention of actually using it, but the speed with which she swung it sent the carrot slice scuttling across the room. Ophelia's eyes locked on his and blazed with fear.

A trickle of sweat dribbled down her left temple and over her rosy red cheek. It was only now that Nox noticed his own body odour oozing from his skin. It was back, the pungent stench that had ruined his life had returned with every drop of its vile fury.

A growl erupted from Ophelia's throat as she lunged at him. Nox was stunned and thrown off guard. He dived for cover behind the table and avoided being stabbed in the heart by just millimetres. But Ophelia didn't stop there. She lunged at him again and this time the knife sliced through his shirtsleeve. He stared in bewilderment at his arm as blood seeped out over the shredded cotton.

He gaped at her but didn't recognise who he was looking at. She'd transformed completely into an unknown wild animal. Ophelia dived at him again, he twisted aside at the last minute and grabbed her knife-wielding arm. With brute force he smashed her hand on the table, scuttling the knife to the ground.

Twisting her arm painfully behind her back, he used it as the driver to push her face first hard into the wall. Ophelia screamed when she hit and several wall-mounted photos tumbled to the ground with her. She scrambled over onto her back to face him. Nox ignored the blood splattered across her face as he pounced onto her, straddling his legs either side of her immense hips. He wrapped his fingers around her throat and centring his attention on her oesophagus he squeezed. She fought back, punching, scratching, kicking her legs. He stared into her eyes, clenched his jaw and squeezed harder.

She looked right back at him and the happy peacefulness that he'd so fallen in love with was gone.

Her eyes began to bulge. She gasped. Her tongue poked out. He dragged his eyes away.

Nox spied the dislodged photo to her side. Through the shattered glass he gazed upon a picture of Ophelia sitting in a bright red lounge chair. On her lap were her boys, sitting either side of her bountiful bosom. They were all smiling. Happy. Peaceful. In love.

Nox stopped squeezing, and as if struck by lightning he jumped back. Ophelia gasped for breath, clawing at her throat. His heartbeat pounded like a freight train as he climbed off her. It was as much a surprise to him as it probably was to Ophelia that he was going to let her live. He knelt at her side, placed his hand on her arm and watched as the colour flushed her cheeks pink and her breathing returned to normal.

It occurred to him that he must truly love this woman to allow her to live. But how could he kill her? She had shown him love. She deserved to see that he was capable of it now too. When he stood up, he spied the car keys hanging on the side of the fridge. He snatched them off the hook and without even a final glance in her direction he strode out the door.

From now on, Nox wasn't just a dead man walking. He was marching. And he knew exactly where to start. Livorno.

Chapter 37

The men made the twisted tail end of the helicopter look like a featherweight as they lifted it off Rosalina and moved it aside. Despite protests from everyone else, she begged Jimmy to carry her up the stairs and into the saloon.

‘
Per favore
, Rosa, we need to take you to a hospital.' Alessandro's shaky voice was emotion-choked as he followed behind them.

‘Absolutely not. I'm not going anywhere until I know where Archer is.'

Jimmy was puffing by the time he lowered her onto the leather lounge. She reached for his hand. ‘Is … he …?' She couldn't even say it. It wasn't possible that Archer was gone. Not possible.

‘We don't know, Rosa. He hasn't been found yet.'

‘He'll be okay, I'm certain.' But even as Alessandro said it, his eyes darkened with fear and he turned his back and walked away.

‘Are you hurt?' Jimmy touched her shoulder but his eyes travelled to her legs.

She flicked her skirt down to cover her legs, ignoring the bruises she knew would be there. ‘I'm fine. Archer's a good swimmer, Jimmy. He made it to safety. I know it.' She reassured herself by forcing conviction into her words.

He squeezed her hand. ‘I know.' Jimmy clenched his jaw, squaring out his chin. He'd removed his black jacket but his bow tie hung loosely around his neck. Her fabulous engagement party now seemed like a lifetime ago.

‘What happened, Rosa?'

She relayed the details to Jimmy, but the whole time she was talking, she was listening to what was going on upstairs. Black water streamed down the outside of the yacht as firemen continued to pour water over the smouldering helicopter. There was a sudden commotion and the water stopped. A grinding noise erupted from above and almost immediately she saw sparks raining down the outside.

‘They're cutting him out,' Jimmy said with a sneer on his lips.

‘Who?' She frowned.

‘Ignatius.'

‘Oh.' Archer had dominated her thoughts so much she hadn't wasted even one moment on Iggy. Of course no-one could survive an explosion like that. If by some miracle Iggy did, she'd strangle him with her bare hands and she wouldn't care who watched her do it.

The noise stopped and the men above spoke in muffled tones. It was a full ten minutes before a stretcher was wheeled through the saloon. Thankfully a white sheet covered the body but the stench of burned flesh made her gag. Rosalina glanced at the cloth-covered body briefly before she turned away. She felt no remorse for the man.

The putrid smell lingered for a long time after they were gone and she tried to block it away by turning her attention back to Jimmy. ‘You know he took the treasure, don't you?'

‘I figured as much.' Jimmy hissed the words out of his thinned lips.

‘It's probably gone forever. All that hard work for nothing.' She shook her head and winced at a stabbing pain behind her eyes. Ignatius had a way of making treasures vanish. Archer had once told her that he was hoarding it all, and one day, when Iggy was caught out, all those stolen treasures would be his demise. Then, finally Ignatius Montpellier would be revealed as the thief he really was.